Hang Overs and Love Letters
by Digital Dork
Summary: Sometimes it takes a little bit of wine and perfect timing for the truth to come out.
1. Hang Overs and Love Letters

**Author: Digital Dork**

**Disclaimer: Not mine. And that sucks. **

On the edge of the kitchen table sat a bottle of Pinot Grigio, whose contents were already two-thirds empty. An empty wine glass rested nearby, the Pinots legs already dried and sticky along the glass.

The knocking at the front door brought Temperance Brennan's attention to something other than the tiny steaks of light peeking through the blinds of her living room's windows.

Over that last three years she had learned the sound of this particular knock well. It was a familiar sound, recognizable by the three louder knocks, followed by the two shorter, soft knocks. Her sock clad feet wandered from the couch to the front door, where she lightly sighed before answering the door.

"Evening, Booth." Temperance Brennan's theory was correct. She smirked, silently congratulating herself of correctly guessing her visitor.

"God, it's dark in here, Bones," his eyes darted around the room and rested on the near-empty bottle of wine. "Feeling a little emo, are we?"

Booth heard a mumbled "I don't know what that means," coming from Brennan, causing a child-like smile to spread across his face. He walked to the table and picked up the bottle.

"Was 1984 a good year for this? Let me guess, your editor sent it to you. I wish my boss sent me wine."

"My editor isn't my boss. She just –"

"—Owns you," Booth playfully finished her sentence for her.

Bones slowly walked back over to the couch and resumed the same lazy position she had been in before she was interrupted from her 'pity-party' as Angela put it. In all honesty, Temperance didn't see the point for people to join together and have a party to pity themselves. It didn't seem reasonable or logical.

Booth joined her on the couch; he was obviously concerned, she usually argued with him or at least put up a fight.

"Everything alright, Bones? Stressed out with writing the book?" He nodded in the direction of her computer with a patented "I'm-Booth-and-I-can-charm-anything" smile. "You know, if you need help with some of those 'scenes', I might be able to help you out," he wagged his eyebrows for emphasis.

"If you're talking about the scenes where Kathy gets to break the wrist of an FBI Agent who asks too many questions, then be my guest, Booth." The most-welcome wine headache was beginning to set in, and closing her eyes seemed to be the most-welcome action against the pain.

Putting up his hands in mock defense, Booth scooted away from her on the couch.

"Ouch, Bones. You pain me. If you wanna talk, I'm here. But I could also not be here, if you want."

She instantly felt guily about her snappy remark, and for not being for hospitable, but they were partners and they had seen each other in bad moods before. And, she had had too much wine to drink and she wasn't worrying about whether or not Booth would judge her.

"Honestly, Booth, I'm struggling with some issues right now, and it isn't easy for me. I'm sorry for being so rude to you, although I honestly don't know why you're here currently, but I'll try to be more hospitable to you." She waved her hand in the direction of the kitchen, her free hand over her closed eyes. "Help yourself to whatever you'd like."

This was not characteristically Temperance Brennan. And if anyone knew, it was Seeley Booth. Sure, she was intoxicated, and he did drop by her house unexpected, but there was something more to the story than Bones was letting on.

"I'm here because I called the lab and Ange said that you had gone home early, that you're refusing to answer your phone, and that she wanted me to check up on you. I'm your friend and if you're going through anything, you can talk to me." He sounded like he was getting frustrated, but Booth also knew that it wasn't easy for his Bones to talk about her feelings, let alone to allow herself to be open enough with anyone to confide in them.

With that, he stood from the couch and wandered through her house on the hunt for a cup of water and a few aspirin. Finding the aspirin were harder than he had expected (they weren't in the bathroom where most people would keep them. They were in the kitchen above the spices).

Before he had reached the living room to give Bones her pain-killing cocktail, she stated, "I'm a failure."

This surprised Booth enough to make him almost drop the cup he was carrying. He offered her the pills and water before he sat on the coffee table in front of the couch.

"How could a world-famous anthropologist and best-selling author be a failure, Bones?" He didn't understand where her statement came from, let alone have any idea of what to say.

"Easily, Booth." Her eyes began to look glassy as she continued, "Yes, I'm an anthropologist, but I have no idea about the culture around me: their idioms, music, movies, etcetera, which creates a barrier with the people around me. I can't be in a serious relationship because I'm emotionally inept and it cause complications. I'm in closer relationships with bones and the diseased than I am with my best friends and family." She was beginning to get frustrated and angry with herself and how easily she was spilling her heart out to Booth.

"I can't – won't trust my father enough to even attempt to have a real relationship with him, and that's something I've always wanted to have. I've always just wanted to have some sort of connection with people, and I don't know how. Or even if I can."

Booth sat across from her, a million thoughts running through his mind. She wanted to people close to people. She wanted to be understood and appreciated. She wanted – his thoughts were interrupted when Bones began to speak again.

"I know how ridiculous this must sound, but I really do want those things. More emotional things – connections. I want to be wanted and cared for and damn," she sighed, a small, sad smile crossing her face, "sometimes I want flowers, I love daisies, or maybe even go on a nice date. And, not a date that involves dinner and a movie, and the ever-awkward 'We should do this again, sometime' speech at the end. God, I hate the 'We should do this again' line."

The conversation had defiantly taken a twist in the topic as she continued to rant. Booth didn't know if he was ready for where this might possibly lead. Was she insinuating something about their relationship? And if she were, where would that leave him? Or even them?

She realized she was beginning to rant about more than she had bargained for, and continued to play with her hands for a few moments longer before having the courage to meet her partner in the eyes. She felt embarrassed for the both of them – because she knew she had said too much, and because she knew he'd have nothing to say.

And she was right. Seeley Booth was speechless. Instead of speaking, he reached out and covered her hands with his. They were warm and soft and comforting as he rubbed her knuckles with his thumb.

So many thoughts were going through his mind in that moment. He wanted to tell her how he wanted to be the man to make her feel cared for and how he wanted to take her on a date and give her a reason to feel close to someone – to him. He wanted to show her that _they_ had that connection.

But he also knew this wasn't the time to confess this to her. This was about making her feel better, and not taking advantage of her vulnerable state.

Looking back into her hazel eyes, he took his free hand and tucked rebellious hair behind her ear.

"You'll have it, Tempe. I know you will. I know you. You're ambitious, beautiful, intelligent, and confident. There's nothing stopping you from having what you want."

For the first time that evening, her eyes met his and she began to smile.

The next morning Temperance lay in bed feeling more confident than she had the night before. And a little more hungover, for that matter.

Becoming vulnerable and honest with Booth the night before had not only brought her out of her emotional shell, but had also formed a new found trust and bond between the two partners.

She eventually pulled herself from the warmth and forced herself to join the world of the living. Walking into the kitchen, she decided starting the coffee maker would be the best way to get her day started. As the rich aroma began to fill the room, the promise of a soon forgotten headache filled her mind.

It was a Sunday. Which meant that both the newspaper's science and arts sections would be more expanded. God, Sundays were good. Expecting to see only her newspaper, her eyes widened with surprise when she opened the front door.

Instead of the daily paper on her doorway, a single white daisy greeted her. A single slip of paper – which she quickly recognized as a receipt from Wong Fu's -- read, "We should do this again sometime. –Booth"

**So, what did you think? Should I continue? Let me know!! **

**Digital Dork**


	2. Priorities and Text Messages

**Title: Hang Overs and Love Letters**

**Author: Digital Dork**

**A/N: Thank you reviewers for all your encouraging words for chapter one. For all of you who wanted me to continue, here it is. I started out thinking this would be only a one or two chapter thing … but my muse is telling me otherwise. Who knows! Anywho, enjoy!!! **

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Temperance Brennan glanced at the clock on her computer before rereading her short e-mail to the Forhistorik Museum.

_Dear Dr. __Schleswig:_

_The skull is perfectly preserved and I intend to have __Angela Montenegro, our specialist in forensic facial reconstruction here at the Jeffersonian, begin on the reconstruction first thing tomorrow morning. I don't want to assume, but we should have a face drawn and accurate by tomorrow evening. _

_I should also have an accurate cause of death by tomorrow evening as well. _

_Thank you again for the honor and opportunity,_

_Temperance Brennan. _

It was 8:47pm. She figured she could stay for another two-hours or so before she'd make herself go home and catch up on sleep and laundry.

Suddenly, her phone began to vibrate across t he table. It always interested her that she could _hear_ her phone vibrate before she could _feel _her phone vibrate. Picking up the phone, she realized that Booth had sent her a text message.

From: Seeley Booth

Im coming 2 the lab. I no ur there. Creeeeepy, huh? ;)

Received:

Thur, 8:49 pm

She smiled at his text. She didn't think it was creepy that Booth knew she would still be at the lab, but she did know that the lab was where her friends knew she would be around this time at night. Was that a good thing?

Thirteen minutes later her heard the familiar beeping of the security entrance and footsteps in the direction of her office.

Brennan's smile greeted him as he walked in and tossed his coat onto the coat rack.

"Stalking me, Booth?"

"Let me take you out tonight." It was stated so simply and honestly, Brennan didn't know what to say.

It wasn't the normal "Lets get pie." "Wanna head over to Wong-Fu's?" God, it wasn't even a "Hey, Bones. How are you?"

It was a simple 'Let me take you out tonight.'

This was defiantly more than just getting _coffee_.

This was defiantly more than just 'Hi. How are you?'

She broke eye contact and shuffled through the piles of papers on her desk, hoping it would create more of an emphasis, "I'm really busy, here. I have to identify this 7,000-year 'bog mummy' from Denmark. The Forhistorisk Museum has been extremely patient with me for the las --"

"--he's been dead for 7,000 years, Bones. One more night isn't gonna _kill_ him." He interrupted her before she continued to find more excuses to not leave the lab.

"That's because he's _already_ _dead_, Booth," she bluntly stated the obvious. Brennan was becoming irritated with him and his puns. Obligations were obligations. They were priorities. Getting dinner with Booth at that moment was _not_ a priority.

To any other woman, getting dinner with Booth would defiantly be a priority. Especially if he stated it the way that he had to her.

"Alright. Fine. I'm leaving." Booth was trying so hard to not mention her confession to his last week about how much she wanted a connection with other people. At least he could honestly say that he had tried to get her to go out.

Maybe she just didn't want to have a connection with him. Maybe that's why she hadn't picked up on the subtlety of his innuendo at their therapy session earlier this week, either. She didn't want to be anything more than work partners. Either way, they were still friends and friends go out to dinner together. Normally.

He also knew that he had given her no notice before barging into the lab, and Bones didn't work that way. He couldn't just waltz into her office and expect her to let him sweep her off her feet, away from her passion, and romance her with food.

He could have hit her over the head with a club and dragged her to dinner by her hair. She'd be pissed, but she'd have to at least give him brownie points for approaching her from an anthropological standpoint.

"We could just order in? Thai?" She looked up at him with an expectant smile. Truth was, she did need to identify the bog man, but she didn't want Booth to leave quite yet. How'd Ange put it? "Have your _Danish_ and eat it, too?"

Booth shifted his weight from one foot to the other as he thought about the option. After a short moment he answered, "No."

"No?" She repeated.

"No. I want to get you out of this lab. Not watch you slurp chicken panang and mess around with some dead guy's stomach contents."

Feeling offended, she instantly objected. "First of all, I do _not_ slurp. Secondly, he doesn't have stomach contents. Mummified bodies are often so dehydrated that stomach contents normally don't—"

"I don't care, Bones! Right now I care about getting you out of this lab and maybe spend some time with me _outside_ of work. So forget it, I'll order you Thai to be delivered and I'll see you tomorrow." He grabbed his jacket from the coat rack in her office, and began to put it on.

She looked at him stunned. _He wanted to spend time with me? Outside of work? _

So this was more than just coffee? Dinner was more than coffee, right?

Her eyes darted to the unsent email and back to Booth putting on his jacket.

"Booth, wait. Let me edit this email and we'll go."

He pivoted around in the doorway. "You're leaving your bogman? For little ol' me?" He smiled at her and winked before reaching for her jacket and purse.

She playfully glared at him before looking back to her email. "Don't get used to this, Booth. You're just lucky you caught me when I was getting hungry."

"Riiiiiiiight, Bones."

Brennan hit the send button and walked around the desk to meet him by the office door. Booth placed the jacket over her shoulders and wrapped his arm around her shoulders.

"See, Bones? This is what the living world calls fun. It's called 'having a life'."

Her brow wrinkled with confusion for a moment. "I'm living, therefore, I have a life, Booth."

He let out a light laugh before guiding her to the lab's exit. "Forget it, Bones. Now. Where do you want to go for fooding?"

"Anywhere 'fun'." She answered honestly. "Anywhere with you."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

That night, Dr. Schleswig checked his email, anticipating a letter from Dr. Brennan.

_Dear Dr. __Schleswig:_

_The skull is perfectly preserved and I intend to have __Angela Montenegro, our specialist in forensic facial reconstruction here at the Jeffersonian, begin on the reconstruction first thing tomorrow morning. I don't want to assume, but we should have a face drawn and accurate by tomorrow evening. _

_I should also have an accurate cause of death by early this weekend. It's getting late here, and I have dinner plans tonight. _

_I apologize for the delay._

_Thank you again for the honor and opportunity,_

_Temperance Brennan. _

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

**Oooooooo, what'd ya think? If you think I should continue it, let me know. **

**Maybe the next chapter will be their dinner date? Is it a **_**date**_**?? XD**

**Digital Dork**


	3. Dinner and Daisies

**Title: Hang Overs and Love Letters**

**Author: Digital Dork**

**Disclaimer: Not mine. **

**So. A little secret about me? I listen to the same song over and over and over again while I'm writing each chapter. For some reason it's easier for me to write with music on that isn't distracting and the longer you listen to the same song, the less distracting for me it becomes. Anywho, this chapter it was "Night Bird" by Ryan Adams. It's greatness.**

**Well, here's the next part. Thanks to everyone who reviewed the last two chapters. I hope this doesn't let you down!!**

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The pair had ended up at a small Italian restaurant a few short blocks from the Jeffersonian Institute. They had driven by it on numerous occasions, but neither of them had ever eaten there. Normally they'd end up at Wong-Fu's or the diner with the rest of the squint squad, but tonight was different. They 'scooby gang' weren't tagging along and Booth wanted to make this dinner a little more special for Bones than she was used to.

An order of Beef Carpaccio, Chicken Scarpariello, two bowls of Zuppa Toscana and a bottle and a half of wine later, the duo were feeling pretty comfortable in the dimly–lit-hole-in-the-wall restaurant.

Before being seated, Booth had made the decision that neither of them would talk about anything work related, therefore they would be more open to discussion on topics they wouldn't normally talk about.

"—and in the anthropology field, it's an extremely controversial issue. I mean, I have an opinion on the situation, but given the circumstances, I don't know whether or not it's wise to state it to other anthropologists and even if I did, I would—" Her brow slightly wrinkled as she continued to debate with herself.

"Slow down, Bones." He said with a smile, his hand reaching across the table to find a place on top of hers. She hadn't realized how worked up she was becoming over their conversation.

Letting out a light laugh she apologized to him.

"I'm sorry, Booth. I'm ranting about 'store talk' and I didn't even take into consideration your opinion or even whether or not you even cared about the subject."

He squeezed her hand before letting them go and taking a drink of his wine. He decided to not correct her on the 'shop talk' slip, like he normally would have.

"I'm always interested in what you do. I just don't know if I understand a lot of your squint-jarb. Ya know, Bones, you could always make it up to me, and letting me have a dance with you." He smiled and nodded toward the tiny dance floor.

There were only two other couples on the floor, moving back and forth to the music being played by a middle aged pianist who appeared to be slightly uncomfortable within the confines of the piano and the wall.

Brennan stood from her seat and extended her hand out to him. "I'd be delighted to dance with you, Mister Booth." She said with a playful smile on her face.

She was genuinely having a good time tonight, even if this _wasn't_ a date. _Dinner, coffee, dinner, coffee. It didn't matter what it was called. They were friends, and they'd never be anything other than friends, so she had nothing to worry about, right?_ She was sure she'd had nothing to worry about.

Booth held her close to him, his chin resting on the side of Brennan's temple. They swayed to the music, moving too perfectly for the 'just friends' argument to hold any validity right now. Brennan leaned her forehead on Booth's shoulder, her eyes closing with a sense of comfort. Neither one of them spoke for a while, a few minutes maybe, enjoying each other's presence.

"You do know that it's not your responsibility to make me feel better, right, Booth?" She broke the silence, suddenly, her words no more than a whisper.

He pulled back from their embrace to search her eyes. Hazel hues stared right back at him, expecting an answer and anticipating the truth.

"Yes. It is." He stated simply. Before she could argue with him, he pulled her body closer to his and continued, "You're my partner, and my best friend, Temperance. I care about you, and how you're feeling matters to me. I'm going to do everything I can to make you feel better. That's how this relationship works, Bones."

His eyes never left hers. Brennan saw a newfound honestly in his hazel eyes. He'd never lied to her, well, about anything that mattered, but this was a new step he was taking. She thought about this for a moment, still holding the contact. He'd referred to them as being in a 'relationship', a 'partnership', and a 'friendship', and he told her he _cared_ about her.

Those four terms were nothing new when it came to her and Booth, but tonight they seemed to take on a new meaning. They become something more personal. Something more real. Something more … romantic?

Brennan vaguely noted that Booth had begun to draw small designs with his hand in the small of her back. Her heart began to race with the thoughts of his simple statement, and of course, with their physical contact. She shifted their position on the dance floor and pulled him into a hug.

"Thank you, Booth." She whispered in his ear. In that moment, she didn't know what else to say that would have been appropriate. No one else had showed interest in her emotions and feelings like Booth had in a long time. She couldn't remember when.

"You're welcome, Temperance."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The weekend had passed, and it was another Monday in the Jeffersonian Institute. As usual Temperance Brennan arrived to work early, a cup of coffee in one had and a stack of folders in the other.

"So. It was a date!?" She heard the familiar voice of her best friend call out from behind her.

"It was _dinner_, Ange." Brennan rolled her eyes as she tried to emphasize the idea of 'dinner' to her friend who created a double, sometimes triple, meaning to everything and anything that occurred with the opposite gender.

"Sooo it _was_ a _date_. With _Booth_." At that moment Brennan didn't know whether she should laugh or be annoyed.

"God, Ange. For being so intelligent, you make me wonder sometimes."

"Sweetie, think about it!" Angela was beginning to become more excited than she should be over the topic at hand. "He stole you away from this horrid place," she waved her arms for emphasis, "… took you to a nice restaurant, paid for your dinner, made you dance with him _and_ he declared his undying love for you!"

The last few words of Angela's over dramatized recreation of their night made her stop in her tracks. "He did not declare is _love_ for me, Ange. That's ridiculous. It was dinner and _nothing_ more. He reassured me of our _friendship_ and that was all. And furthermore, he certainly would nev—"

"Oh my God!" Angela suddenly shrieked, interrupting her justification of the "non-date" dinner. Her hands covered her mouth as she ran into Brennan's office.

Brennan's eyes grew wide when she saw what Ange ran into her office for. On her desk sat a bouquet of daises in a beautiful green and yellow glass vase. Angela was beaming from ear to ear, as she grabbed for the card and held it just out of Brennan's reach.

"Wasn't a date, my ass!" Angela began to laugh as she finally handed the card over. The smile was still plastered on her face as she leaned against the desk. "I'd love for Jack to have a vase of flowers on my desk that say 'hello' on a Monday morning."

"Flowers can't say 'hello', Ange. That's stupid." She slipped her finger under the back flap, to open the envelope. She couldn't help but smile as she read the hand written note on the tiny card. It was only 9am. It was going to be a long day. It would also be good. But mostly, a long day.

"_Hope this makes your Monday a little better. Coffee, sometime?"_

_-B. _

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

**What'd ya guys think:D **_**Review and make my night!!**_** Let me know if I should keep going or if you have any ideas for what comes next. I have some ideas, but I'm sorta playing around with them for the time being. Dun dun dun.**


End file.
